


Heavy Lies the Crown

by demiclar



Series: Destcember 2020 [8]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Destcember Day 8, Game plot isn't super important but just know the world is ending, Season of the Hunt, Zavala and Ikora are stressed out, but I haven't played Beyond Light yet so I really don't know what happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:55:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27971957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demiclar/pseuds/demiclar
Summary: Zavala takes a walk to relieve some of the stress of command.
Series: Destcember 2020 [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2037118
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	Heavy Lies the Crown

Zavala massaged his temples for the tenth time in the past three minutes, trying to rid himself from his growing headache with little luck. He thought technology had advanced far enough for him to no longer be suffering from headaches after staring the screens in his office all day, but apparently even that was unreliable in these trying times.

He bit back a groan, looking over the screen one last time. He was working on busywork at this point, anything to keep him occupied while he waited for news from anyone out in the system, Osiris, the scouts, the Guardian, anyone. But he’d received word from most of them recently. It was unlikely he’d hear from them again before morning. Perhaps he had time for a short walk around the Tower, the fresh air could help to relieve his head.

He sent his screens into their sleep modes before standing from his desk, informing the frames working around him that he would be taking a walk. It had been difficult learning to focus around them once more. In the old Tower, they’d frequently worked in the room around himself, Ikora and Cayde, but since he’d transitioned most of his work into his private office, he’d gotten used to the quiet. He’d often play soft music in the background on the less stressful days, when he was simply occupied with logistical work. That luxury had disappeared long before the ships had come.

He tried not to let his thoughts wander to such dark subjects as he exited his office and the building within which it was contained, stepping out onto the walkway and taking the stairs up towards the upper levels. Unfortunately, it was difficult not to think of such things. His very being was becoming consumed with the troubles of it all. The thoughts consumed his every waking moment, which was nearly all day. He rarely slept anymore. It seemed he was always working. His Ghost even had a hard time convincing him to eat. He often forgot meals were something his body needed.

Zavala couldn’t apologize for being a bit of a workaholic. He had a tendency to overwork himself, he wasn’t sure he knew how not to, but it was what the City needed. They needed someone in charge who lived and breathed for the purpose of the City. Zavala had no aspirations of his own anymore. Nothing mattered until he could ensure the safety of the City. He had a few ideas of what he might do afterwards, but he was beginning to doubt the time would ever come.

He returned to his senses as he reached the upper levels of the Tower. It was late already, most of the Guardians either away in their quarters or off on missions of their own. Few of the vendors and workers still remained in the late hour, but those that did nodded or greeted him as he passed. He tried to return their greetings as hopefully as he could, but exhaustion lay thick on him. He would need to find some caffeine before he returned to his work, even his Ghost wasn’t able to keep him energized these days.

His footsteps led him towards the Bazaar, and he let his eyes rove over the tree set before the stairwell as he descended it. Soon, the Dawning would be upon them. He supposed the Tower would celebrate. Eva had a way of relieving their tensions with festivals and activities planned for their enjoyment. He hoped they could afford to do so this year. At the same time, he feared the Tower might collapse in on itself if they didn’t. Morale was low. Thankfully, the situation on Europa had brought a spark of hope to the Tower because it had given their fears a direction that they might be able to pursue, but the tragedies had not stopped coming.

Distantly, he wondered how Ikora was managing. His feet were leading him towards her station, but he doubted she would be outside, rather she’d likely be in her study, pouring over her own work as he’d been, or back at her own quarters, either resting or continuing to work. Ikora was stubborn, but she was wiser than he was, could recognize that sleep would do her good even if she didn’t want to rest. Still, she was dealing with more than just the problems of the Darkness. Ikora had lost a friend, Sagira. Osiris’s Ghost. She’d been close to the Ghost, as Osiris had been her mentor and friend, she’d gotten to know his Ghost as well as a result. Ophiuchus had known her even better. Zavala wondered how he was suffering.

Just as he had suspected, Ikora was not at her station overlooking the City, now bathed in the light reflecting off the Traveler, the orb glowing bright in the dark. Still, her study was not far. He hoped to pay her a visit, if she were there. Perhaps he could advise her to call it a day. He was becoming more and more tempted.

The Warlock hallways were similarly quiet at the late hour, and he saw only a few Guardians on his way to Ikora’s study, most of them exhausted and likely going to find their beds. This conflict was weighing heavy on them all.

He knocked when he made it to her study, entering a few moments later when she gave no response. The lights were on inside, and as soon as he pushed through the door, he found her seated at a large table, her eyes roving over screens of information. She only looked up when he shut the door with a quiet click.

“Oh, Zavala.” She said when her eyes found in. “I apologize, I didn’t hear you come in.”

“It’s alright.” He answered, approaching the table at which she sat.

“Do you have news?” She asked. He shook his head. She was still bent over the table, her eyes still looking focused, though she was adjusting to his presence.

“No,” he answered, “I needed a break, and I assumed you might need one as well.”

Ikora smiled. “Always, these days.” He hummed in agreement.

Her screens dimmed as she pushed them aside for the moment.

“You look troubled.” She told him. “Are you alright?”

He shrugged simply, seating himself in one of the open chairs at her table. “Just the headaches again.” He explained.

She nodded in understanding. “You need to drink more water.” She told him simply, “I’ve also heard you’re barely eating anymore.”

He smiled a little despite himself. “Yes. I can’t seem to find the time.” A few of his lieutenants had noticed as well. They’d taken to bringing him snacks when they reported in, somehow managing to leave the gifts in random places within his office, obvious enough to notice them yet somehow only after they’d gone.

Ikora smiled back. “Neither can I.” She let out a quiet sigh, then chuckled lightly when her Ghost materialized with two glasses of water set on the table between them. “Thank you, Ophiuchus.” She told the Ghost, accepting one.

“I wonder what Cayde would think of us right now.”

Ikora paused in bringing the glass to her lips when he spoke, but he took his own glass in hand, taking a sip almost out of obligation.

“I wish he were here.” Ikora murmured quietly.

Zavala’s smile was sad now, his brows feeling pushed down by some unknown weight.

“I do, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Some of you might have picked up on it if you're lore junkies like I try to be (when I'm not so busy with college) but this piece was inspired by the Oxygen SR3 lore piece. Love that thing.


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